


Forget Me Not

by loveandbeloved



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Amnesia fic, Car Accident, Domestic besties, M/M, Music Producer!Liam, artist!zayn, character injury, everything in life would be so much easier if people would just talk about their feelings, ya know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 01:18:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17356247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandbeloved/pseuds/loveandbeloved
Summary: Liam and Zayn are best friends who act like a married couple but in actuality aren't even dating. One day, Zayn gets into an accident and wakes up in the hospital with amnesia, but when Liam tries to explain their life to him, Zayn assumes they are dating. Things escalate until Liam has to decide to tell Zayn the truth or pray that his memory never comes back.Or: an amnesia fic that's way less angsty than most.





	Forget Me Not

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Maryam (my baby snowflake sunshine rainbow unicorn) for requesting an amnesia fic and letting me put my own spin on it! Also thank you for being patient because I was very slow writing this lmao
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!

The last hints of the sun disappear beyond the horizon, leaving the apartment to be lit by the faint lights of the city around it. It’s quaint, illuminated only by the city and a few candles that Liam usually has burning when he’s home.

The floor to ceiling windows give them an incredible view of the city scape, and watching the sun go down has been part of their nightly tradition for ages now.

Tonight is a bit different though.

Liam pads across the floor, his socks soft against the hard wood as he makes his way into the living room, to draw the sheer curtains for privacy so people can’t see inside if he flips the lights on.

He’s sleepy, the events on his day weighing him down as a melody line plays in his head over and over, until it screeches to a halt at the spot he can’t seem to get past. It makes Liam want to bang his head on something hard, just to skip past the frustrating section where no chord or inversion seems right.

Normally this is when he’d hum it for Zayn and let the older man help him, because Zayn has an incredible ear for music and a unique perspective for composition. He also knows how to get Liam out of his head and keep him moving. It’s something that no one else in Liam’s life, personal or professional, can accomplish.

Liam glances at the clock hanging over the archway that separates their kitchen and dining room from the living room, and frowns. Zayn should have been home hours ago.

He picks up his phone where he placed it beside the stove when he’d first started to make the sauce for the pasta noodles he needed to use. Zayn had been cleaning the pantry the week before and had found them, just a couple weeks shy of their expiration date, and Liam had added pasta to their weekly menu when Zayn had told him.

Liam has no new messages, and his lock screen, a picture of Zayn hugging Harry's tiny puppy to his face and beaming at the camera seems to mock him.

He’d last texted Zayn almost four hours before, asking him to pick up some garlic bread from the store on his way home from the studio, and Zayn had sent him a thumbs up and smiley emoji in response.

It’s not like Zayn to be late, especially not without a warning beforehand.

Zayn, admittedly, is intense, and sometimes he spends days at a time in the studio, sketching and painting and creating masterpieces, but he _never_ forgets about Liam.

Regardless of what they’re working on or where they are, they always have dinner together, even if it’s through Skype. Initially, Zayn had suggested it as a way to keep a sense of normalcy in their lives as their careers became more successful and time consuming, and now they both rely on the comfort that the routine brings.

They met in college during their freshman orientation, bright eyed and alone at a big school in a new city, and instantly bonded over their tastes in music and movies. After suffering through one year alone, Liam had shyly asked Zayn if he’d like to be roommates the following year, and they’ve been living together ever since.

 

Liam uncovers the pasta sauce that’s softly simmering, stirring it with a wooden spoon and then lowers the heat to keep it ready to eat as soon as Zayn gets back. The pasta is already in the oven, keeping warm, and Liam peeks in at it to make sure it’s not getting too dry.

He yawns, flipping off the light in the kitchen and wandering into the living room, phone in hand. He’s tired, both physically and mentally, and he’s planning to eat and then go straight to bed.

Their couch is made of dark leather, and Liam sinks into it as he plops down, tucking his feet underneath himself as he curls up on the couch to rest his eyes as he waits.

The silence is concerning, if he’s being honest.

It had only taken one time where Liam had been unable to get ahold of Zayn in the studio because his phone had died before the older man had purchased extra chargers for both of their workspaces, full of guilt for worrying his best friend.

So their must be another reason that Zayn isn’t answering. Perhaps his phone is dead, or he left it behind on accident and is on his way home without it.

Liam vaguely thinks about going to studio to look for the older man. They both rent studio space in the same building so he can get in without hearing from Zayn first, and it would be better than just sitting around.

But on the other hand, Liam doesn’t want to come across as too clingy. They’re already extremely close for friends, and Zayn probably doesn’t want any of the people at the studio asking him any questions about why Liam came to drag him home for dinner like a disgruntled house wife.

He decides to just keep waiting. After all, it can’t be that much longer before Zayn gets home.

Liam blinks a few times, yawning again before letting his eyes slip closed, and he decides that a small nap before dinner won’t hurt anything. Zayn will wake him as soon as he returns, anyways. The thought that he’ll see the older man as soon as he wakes makes Liam’s heart warm as he drifts off to sleep.

***

He’s woken, not by the return of his best friend, but by his phone buzzing incessantly where it’s lying near his head.

Liam groans, fumbling for the device, his fingers uncoordinated as he squints at the bright screen that signals an incoming call. It’s an unknown number, and normally he just lets them ring through because he doesn’t like talking to strangers, but in his half-awake state, he swipes to answer the call anyways.

“Hello?” he rasps, his voice hoarse from sleep. He glances at the clock, sitting up, and frowns as he realizes he was asleep for almost an hour.

“Yes, is this Mr. Liam Payne?” a female asks calmly, and Liam pulls the phone away from his ear, double checking the number just in case it was something work related that he completely forgot about. It’s a local number, but not one that he recognizes.

“It is,” Liam confirms. “May I ask who I’m speaking with?”

The woman on the other end of the line identifies herself as a nurse at one of the hospitals in town, and Liam immediately feels his heart rate elevate.

“I’m calling to notify you about Mr. Malik’s condition. He was in an accident earlier this evening and because you are his emergency contact and power of attorney, we wanted to contact you in regard to some decisions we need to make.”

The nurse continues on, but her words fly straight over Liam’s head, because his mind went blank as soon as she said the word ‘accident’.

He feels like throwing up, his stomach rolling and eyes prickling as he breathes shallowly, fighting the urge to panic. That won’t help Zayn, he tells himself.

His hearing begins to work again and he realizes that the nurse has been saying his name, trying to get his attention.

“Ma’am, I-“ he begins, unsure, and his voice cracks. He can’t make sense of what she’s saying. “Please. Is he..” Liam’s voice trails off weakly, unable to finish the thought out loud. Zayn is too entwined with Liam for him to be able to separate them in his mind, hypothetically or otherwise.

Fear grips his heart, the fact that he might never actually get to tell Zayn the truth after all these years weighing heavily on his conscious. The bitter taste of regret fills his mouth in the few seconds that it takes the nurse to answer, his mind already jumping to the worst possible conclusion.

“Mr. Malik is unconscious but stable right now,” she says quickly. “That’s all I can say over the phone.”

Liam breathes out, the tension in his body releasing, and he almost laughs in relief. He feels nearly hysterical in a way, having been through a roller coaster of emotion in just a few minutes.

“There are a couple important medical decisions that you’ll need to make in person on Mr. Malik’s behalf, Mr. Payne,” the nurse continues. “Are you able to come to the hospital tonight?”

“Yes, of course,” he answers immediately, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Liam is on his feet, moving through the apartment as the nurse tells him which floor Zayn is on and gives him a code to get into the unit because he will arrive after visiting hours.

“Just go to the nurse’s station when you arrive and someone there will be able to help you,” she adds, and Liam thanks her, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he pulls on a pair of suitable pants.

He feels like he’s in a fog as he grabs a bag, throwing in his phone charger and a few changes of clothes because he’s not planning to leave the hospital until Zayn can come home too. He flips off the stove, sticking the dishes into the refrigerator.

Vaguely he thinks that he’ll need to call Zayn’s mom at some point and let her know what’s happening, and their friends will need to know too because they were going to have a movie night on Friday and it’s definitely going to be cancelled.

Liam is almost on autopilot as he drives to the hospital, parking and throwing his bag over his shoulder as he walks inside quickly, bypassing the front desk to head straight to the elevator.

Zayn is on the third floor in the neurological wing. Liam mashes the button and it feels like ages before the doors actually slide closed and he moves.

There’s no one in the waiting area when he steps out of the elevator, but he spies a few vending machines and a coffee machine that will probably become his best friend.

The door to get into the actual unit is locked, but Liam spies a keypad and figures that’s what his code is for. There’s a loud clicking noise after he types the numbers in, and the door swings open when he pulls.

Liam walks forward, looking around anxiously. Now that he’s actually arrived, his nerves are returning, and images of Zayn’s body, broken and bloodied, flash in his mind unbidden. His stomach churns, and he feels bile fill the back of his throat at the thought of Zayn never leaving this place.

“Can I help you, sir?” a nurse floats into his vision, her scrubs a light blue and her face soft and kind. She looks worried for him, probably because he’s standing just beyond the entrance with a devastated look on his face.

“Um,” he stutters, his throat closing, and he blinks rapidly, trying to shove his irrational fears down. He’s okay, Liam tells himself. He’s fine, he’s alive and stable, and he’s be fine. “I’m here for Zayn Malik?”

Understanding blooms in the nurse’s eyes, and she nods. “Ah yes, we were told his family was on the way. He’s in 302, right this way,” she says, gesturing for him to follow as she turns the corner.

They go by the nurse’s station on the way, and two more nurses, a man and an older woman, look up as they pass. Liam hopes he doesn’t look as wrecked as he feels.

302 is in the corner, with windows overlooking the highway and parking lot where Liam left his car. It’s a spacious room, no doubt made for long term stays as there’s a couch and a reclining chair tucked into the back corner, out of the way of the medical staff. There’s a light on over the counter to one side, where the nurses work probably.

Liam just barely registers all of that, though, because his focus is almost entirely on the man lying in the hospital bed, shirtless with sheets covering him from the chest down.

Zayn looks so small and frail in the bed, wires and tubes coming out of him all over the place, hooked up to monitors and machines that Liam isn’t familiar with. His skin is unnaturally pale, almost as white as the sheets that cover him, and it’s so different from his usual caramel tone that it makes Liam’s chest ache.

His eyes are closed peacefully, eyelashes stark black against the hollow of his cheekbones. There’s a cast on his left wrist, ending just before the bend of his elbow, and Liam is sure that it will be filled with drawings as soon as Zayn wakes up.

“All things considered, he’s pretty lucky,” the nurse tells him, when Liam fails to say anything, moving further into the room. One by one, she checks the wires attached to his chest, pressing down on the sticky pads. She turns his arm over, pressing at where his IV inserts into the skin, and then glances up at the drip hanging over the bed, fluid slowly running into the line through a pump.

“He’s got a fractured wrist, some scrapes on his legs, and some bruises on his stomach that we’re watching, but nothing super alarming. All we’re waiting for is for him to wake up so we can assess his mental status,” she says, as she moves over to the counter where there’s a computer and supplies.

“How long will he be out?” Liam asks, finally stepping into the room. He drops the bag off of his shoulder at the base of the couch and moves to stand by Zayn’s side.

“It’s hard to say,” she says. “But his prognosis is good. His skull isn’t fractured and his CT scan was almost normal, so there was no bleeding and just a small amount of swelling. Everyone reacts to cerebral trauma differently, though, so at this point we just have to wait.”

Liam nods to himself, trying to be strong. Hesitantly, he reaches down to takes Zayn’s hand in his own. His fingers are cold, just like usual, and Liam presses them between his own, warming them just like he would if they were at home, curled up together on the couch or in one of their beds, and not in a hospital room.

“Do you know how..” he trails off, gesturing to Zayn, and the nurse nods once.

“The EMT who brought him in said a witness saw him run into the road to save a kitten from being hit by a truck that was going too fast. He went flying on impact and landed pretty hard on the side walk.”

Liam winces and shakes his head fondly, because honestly, that sounds exactly like Zayn. He’s kind and reckless and self-sacrificing, especially when it comes to those less able or fortunate than himself.

He vaguely wonders if the kitten was alright as the nurse uses her keys to unlock one of the drawers above the counter. She’s efficient and unbothered by Liam’s staring as she takes out a small vial and draws up the liquid inside into a syringe. She walks over to the IV pump, pausing the fluid and disconnecting the line to push the medication inside before reconnecting and restarting it.

“What was that?” Liam asks, curiously.

“Morphine, for the pain,” she answers, sticking the syringe into a red container on the wall. “Even though he’s unconscious, he’s still going to be experiencing some pain and we try to stay on top of it as much as possible. It makes the whole process easier.”

Liam nods to himself, squeezing Zayn’s hand absent-mindedly. He plays with the older man’s fingers, thumbing at his nails gently as the nurse taps away at the computer for a few minutes.

“Do you need anything else before I leave?” she asks when she’s done, turning to face Liam again. She seems genuine and sympathetic as she smiles at him, and Liam shakes his head quickly.

“Push the call light if you do,” she tells him, gesturing to the remote that’s hanging off of the wall near the bed.

“I will, thanks,” Liam smiles gratefully as she leaves, and then it’s just him and Zayn. Normally, he would be perfectly content with that, but right now, with Zayn silent and still, it puts him on edge.

He leaves Zayn’s side and moves to his bag, pulling out the blanket and pillow that he brought from home to place on the couch. The exhaustion from earlier is still present in the back of his mind, but he’s too worried to actually consider sleeping.

Liam pulls his phone out, and then he suddenly realizes that he still needs to contact Zayn’s family and their friends to let them know what’s happening. When Zayn and Liam had decided that they weren’t going back home to England after college, they filled out the paper work to make each other their power of attorney in case anything happened. That means that Liam is the only person that gets notified, and so Zayn’s family has no idea that he’s even been in an accident.

He checks the time, and because it’s the middle of the night back in Bradford, he texts Zayn’s parents instead, letting them know what happened and how Zayn is. He spends a shorter version of the same text to their close friends, and all three of them respond quickly. Louis calls him, demanding details and asking if he should come over to be with Liam for the night.

The offer is tempting. Louis would be an excellent distraction, and the older man, despite himself, always knows when to speak and when to listen. He doesn’t want to drag Louis out for the night though, so he just asks that he visits the next day.

“Sure thing,” Louis agrees easily. “Keep us updated, alright?”

Liam promises that he will, and then he’s alone again, with no company besides his thoughts. He’s almost unable to sleep because he’s worried that something might go wrong and Zayn will slip away without warning. Several times he dozes off and startles awake with a gasp, fearing the worst.

The nurse is in and out of the room every couple hours, checking lines and vital signs, and giving Zayn different medications through his IV, and Liam watches with tired eyes as she works quickly and quietly.

Finally, he falls into an exhausted sleep just as the sun is peeking over the horizon, casting a warm glow over Zayn’s pale skin.

***

He wakes up slowly, to the sound of shuffling movement and rhythmic beeping near his head. When he peels his eyes open, there’s a man standing near the IV pump, silencing it and shifting a bag of fluid from one pole to another one that a bit lower.

His phone buzzes underneath his pillow, and Liam sighs, scrubbing a hand over his eyes before jamming it underneath to withdraw the device.

There are several texts from Harry and two from Louis, the last of which just reads, ‘almost there, you better be up,’ and it’s from a few minutes ago. Liam groans, sitting up and rubbing harshly at his eyes to clear them of sleep.

“Sorry,” the man, a new nurse most likely, whispers, looking apologetic for waking Liam.

“You’re alright,” Liam murmurs, voice low from sleep. “How is he?”

The man checks the monitor above the bed and then pulls a wad of papers out of his pocket. “He’s still stable, unchanged from last night. The doctor will be coming by in a few hours to check him over and he’ll be able to give you some more detailed information.”

An alarm sounds outside the room, loud and shrill, and the man mutters that he’s got to take care of that before leaving quickly.

Liam’s stomach rumbles, and he realizes that he never actually ate dinner the night before, too caught up in getting to Zayn to think about it.

He wonders if the hospital cafeteria is any good, or if he’ll be living out of the vending machines in the waiting for the foreseeable future.

There’s a gentle knocking on the door, and Liam lifts his head to find Louis and Harry standing in the doorway, eyes locked onto Zayn’s still form.

“Hey guys,” Liam says, standing to greet them.

Harry doesn’t say anything, his eyes huge as he stares at their friend, but Louis turns his attention to Liam.

“How are you doing?” he asks, stepping over the wrap an arm around Liam’s shoulders. Liam sinks into the half hug gratefully, letting the physical contact soothe him.

“I’ve been better,” Liam admits, swallowing thickly as he feels fear and panic clawing at the back of his throat. 24 hours before, he’d been with Zayn at their kitchen table, squabbling over who’s turn it was to make breakfast, and now he’s in the hospital, wondering if and when Zayn will wake up.

The fragility of life and his own mortality have never been more evident to Liam than right then, and the more he wakes up, the more frantic he feels.

Louis squeezes his shoulder tightly, drawing his attention away from the bed and onto the physical grounding. He’s the only one who knows about the feelings that Liam has done so well at keeping inside of him. Years of soft touches and softer words have made it impossible to not love Zayn in every sense of the word, and for the longest time, it was alright.

Until loving Zayn turned into being _in love_ with Zayn, that is.

Liam strongly believes that you can fall in love with almost anyone if you know them well enough, and Zayn made it so, so easy to fall.

They’re friends, best friends, but if it was up to Liam, they’d be more than that too. Zayn has never given him any indication that his affections are returned though, and Liam has long since resigned himself to a life spent loving Zayn within the confines of the life, and friendship, they’ve built over the past seven years.

Harry looks shaken at the sight of Zayn so lifeless and Liam can completely relate. It feels almost unreal, like the plot of a bad dream that Liam would love to wake up from. Louis ushers Harry out after a few minutes of stilted conversation, promising to call and check in.

“Take care of yourself, Payno,” he murmurs, an arm firmly around Harry’s waist to lead him away before he can start crying. “Let me know if you need anything.”

And then they’re gone, and Liam is alone yet again.

***

It’s two long days before Zayn shows any sign of waking. His fingers begin to twitch as Liam is tracing them absentmindedly, like he does at home when they’re watching a movie and he needs something to do with his hands. It’s just a small movement, but it makes Liam jump back like he’s been shot.

He yells for the nurse, telling her what happened, and though they run several tests to check and see if there’s any extra brain activity, Zayn doesn’t move again for the rest of the day.

The next day he wakes up for just a few seconds, long enough to look around the room, notice Liam sitting beside the bed, and say “Liam?” confused, before he slowly closes his eyes again. His voice is so raspy, barely more than a croak, but he recognizes Liam and that fills his heart with so much hope.

He's crying before he even realizes it, reaching for the call light with shaking hands to tell the nurses what happened.

That night he dreams of being at home, Zayn by his side as they cook dinner and settle in to watch a movie together. Terribly domestic, and exactly what Liam’s heart longs for.

Zayn wakes up fully a day later, and as soon as the nurse realizes that he’s going to stay that way, she makes Liam leave so they can do a full uninterrupted assessment of Zayn.

He calls Louis from the waiting room and tells him that Zayn’s awake and he’s terrified but he doesn’t know why, and it takes the older man half an hour to calm him down.

It’s an excruciating two hours before he’s allowed back inside Zayn’s room, but then he’s right there, next to a Zayn that’s very alive and very sore and very, very beautiful.

Even after all these years, he still takes Liam’s breath away.

His eyes are cloudy and unfocused, but when Liam steps into the room, recognition is evident on his face. He brightens and Liam smiles, wobbly, trying to keep his emotions in check. He can be strong for Zayn.

There’s no one else in the room, and Liam kind of was wanting to talk to the doctor about how Zayn is doing, but that can wait.

“Hey,” Liam breathes, crossing the room to stand by the side of the bed. His hands come up to hover but he’s not sure where to put them and winds up dropping them back down, his eyes searching Zayn’s face. “How are you feeling?”

Zayn smiles wryly, shrugging one shoulder. “Like I’ve been hit by a truck,” he mutters, and Liam giggles before he can stop himself. Zayn’s dry sense of humor is one of his favorite parts of the older man, and it’s still intact despite his injuries.

Zayn doesn’t stop smiling but his brow furrows, and he looks at Liam funny, asking, “what?”

“You _were_ hit by a truck,” Liam tells him, and Zayn’s eyes go huge as he realizes his unintended joke.

“No wonder,” he mutters, looking down at his body. He lifts his left arm barely off the bed and lets it drop back down with a soft thud.

They fall into an easy silence as Zayn seems to get lost in thought and Liam studies him intensely. He looks exhausted still, bag heavy under his eyes despite days of being asleep, but his color is back, and Liam can’t stop thanking the universe that he’s fine.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Liam murmurs, letting his fingers find their way under Zayn’s chin, just like always. He rubs at the skin fondly, and Zayn tenses up under his touch, which-

That’s not normal.

Zayn never shies away from him, regardless of where they are or who they’re with. And he always seeks out Liam’s comfort when he’s not feeling well.

Once, he told Liam that his hands were better medicine than anything the doctor could prescribe him. Liam had blushed harshly, and he was so thankful that Zayn’s eyes were closed, his head pillowed in Liam’s lap as he rubbed the headache away with gentle fingertips against Zayn’s temples.

Liam pulls back instantly, his hand flying to the back of his neck awkwardly, because he doesn’t know how to interact with a Zayn that he’s not in tune with.

“So, uh,” Zayn begins, his voice sounding just as awkward as Liam feels. “What are you doing? Here, I mean,” Zayn asks, his voice small and confused, and Liam frowns.

“Where else would I be?” he questions, because there’s literally no where in the world that he would need to be, not when Zayn is hurt and in need of Liam’s help.

“It’s Tuesday, isn’t it?” Zayn confirms, and Liam nods, vaguely wondering if he forgot about some meeting he was supposed to have.

Zayn looks at Liam sharply, shaking his head slightly like that should have been enough prompting for Liam to understand. When Liam doesn’t respond, he sighs. “Liam, we have English on Tuesdays, and I know you have music appreciation in the afternoon too,” he chides gently.

The words send an icy chill down Liam’s spine, because they’ve been out of school for three years, and Liam only took one English class in his four years of college; the one he shared with Zayn during their freshman year.

Liam thinks desperately, that maybe he’s joking, but Zayn doesn’t smile, and Liam’s stomach drops as he realizes that Zayn isn’t kidding. He really thinks that Liam is skipping class to be here, and he doesn’t know Liam beyond the casual friendship that they built as freshmen in college, sharing notes and proofreading each other’s papers even though they both knew that Zayn didn’t need any help to ace the class.

“What year is it?” Liam rasps, begging Zayn to remember, to say 2018.

“2011,” Zayn says instead, the picture of confidence.

Liam chokes, gasping for air, and Zayn looks unsure as he watches Liam have a meltdown right in front of him.

Seven years of memories and inside jokes and _intimacy_ are gone, wiped away with one blow to the head.

Liam feels sick again, and this time, with Zayn staring at him with a lack of anything other than general recognition in his eyes, Liam isn’t sure that he’s going to be able to shove down the urge to throw up.

“I’m going to get the nurse,” he whispers, panic clawing at the back of his throat as he steps back and whirls around. He leaves as fast as he can, ignoring the soft, “wait, Liam,” that follows him out of the room, Zayn’s voice hauntingly hollow as it curls around the syllables of his name.

***

The nurse, when Liam finally finds her, apologizes profusely. She looks horrified when she spots Liam, explaining that she got called to a code in another room right after they told him it was alright to come back in, and that she was supposed to talk to Liam before he saw Zayn to explain everything.

The doctors say its temporary amnesia from the brain trauma and it will most likely resolve itself within a few months. Until then, Liam is supposed to fill Zayn in on what his life is like, because old routines are the most likely thing to trigger his memories.

“So he really thinks it’s 2011 and he’s eighteen again?” Liam asks, and the nurse nods, a sympathetic look on her face.

“He does,” she confirms. “It’s fairly common after that kind of accident, and because we didn’t find any physical damage, there’s nothing stopping him from remembering his actual life at any time.”

And that at least gives Liam some hope.

Liam thanks her softly, and then makes a beeline for the guest bathroom on the floor. He locks the door and slides down to sit on the floor, despite how disgusting it is.

His mind is racing as he processes all that he’s learned and tries to understand exactly what he’s up against.

Zayn did recognize him from before, so at least he isn’t a complete stranger in the older man’s eyes. He remembers the Liam from the first year of college, where they just began to get to know each other.

Liam tries to remember what he was like back then. He was self-conscious, and little bit awkward, and eager to please. He remembers really wanting friends in college, because high school hadn’t provided him with any type of social support.

He remembers being intimidated by the campus and watching the large groups of people with wary eyes during the week long orientation. And he remembers going to English during his first semester and absolutely dreading it because it’s never been his strongest area.

Liam sat at the back of the classroom because he was afraid of getting called on, and Zayn sat at the back of the classroom because he was miles ahead of the elementary topics they discussed and therefore rarely paid attention.

He’d been so effortlessly cool, even with baby fat still clinging to his cheeks, and Liam was instantly taken with the older man.

They met to study once, reviewing papers and talking about how boring most of their classes were, and from then on, they never looked back.

Liam doesn’t even remember the specifics of their friendship taking off, just thinking how one day Zayn wasn’t even a name he knew and the next, Zayn was always right there next to him, regardless of what they were doing.

Memories rush to the front of his mind, scenes from their lives flashing in front of his eyes like a movie.

Images of them going bowling and Zayn using a hot pink bowling ball because he insisted that it had the best thumb hole. He missed the lane almost every turn until Liam finally requested that they put the bumpers up, but Liam wasn’t going to squash his fun.

He thinks of the dozens of movies they watched together, both in a theater and in the comfort of one of their dorm rooms, curled up close in front of a laptop. Zayn was, and is, an excellent movie partner; he doesn’t breathe too loudly or spoil the endings, he comments occasionally but not enough to distract Liam entirely, and he always saves the butteriest bits of popcorn for Liam.

Once they went laser tagging with a couple people that Zayn knew, before the older man finally declared that it was too much exercise. He’d humored Liam anyways and played a couple more games, but they never went back.

When the weather turned cold, Zayn took Liam ice skating, even though he didn’t know how. Zayn promised to teach him, citing years of practice with his siblings back home, and held Liam’s waist firmly until he was no longer wobbling dangerously. For the rest of the afternoon, he’d held Liam’s hand instead.

That memory still brings heat to Liam’s cheeks, because they probably looked like a couple to all of those people, and he wishes so much that it was true.

There’s a pang of nostalgia in his chest because he really misses those days. He loves the Zayn that he has now, but back then, he’d experienced the thrill of getting to know every bit of someone for the first time. It was exciting, and terrifying, and his Zayn now still scares him and makes his heart race, but it feels different.

A lot happened during that first year, and he wonders where Zayn’s memory left off. If he knows Liam’s schedule by heart, he’s guessing it’s already a few months in, but before they started seriously hanging out.

Zayn is probably so worried and confused, Liam thinks to himself, his lips tugging down as he think of the older man waiting nervously for him to return.

That’s enough motivation for Liam to pick himself up off the floor. He winds up actually using the restroom while he’s in there, and he washes his hands for far longer than necessary, but no one is going to arrest him for being too clean.

Eventually, he runs out of valid reasons to stall, and he unlocks the door, letting it swing open, and his feet carry him back to room 302.

Zayn is sitting further up in bed when he gets back, shoulders hunched slightly, and Liam recognizes the wounded look on his face as he steps into the room.

“Hey,” Liam murmurs, and Zayn’s eyes snap up to meet his, surprise and relief on his face.

“Hey,” Zayn echoes. “Is everything okay?”

He looks genuinely concerned, and Liam feels even worse for taking off like he did without an explanation as he takes in the expression.

“Yes, and no,” Liam begins gently, and Zayn frowns, curling his good arm around his stomach, like he’s subconsciously protecting himself.

Liam tells the older man what the nurse told him, explaining that because of the accident a lot of his memories are gone. At first, Zayn looks like he’s going to protest, but Liam shows him the date on his phone as proof.

Zayn sits in silence for a few long minutes, Liam hovering awkwardly near his bed, unsure of how to help, until Zayn finally speaks.

“I mean, I knew something was wrong. I only had a few small tattoos before. Nothing like this,” he admits, extending his arm and letting his eyes rove over the expansive ink.

“And you,” Zayn cuts off abruptly, his frown deepening. His eyes search Liam’s face like he holds the keys to all the mysteries in the universe but he’s purposefully hiding them

“Me?” Liam asks, prompting him to explain what he’s talking about.

“There’s something so familiar about you,” Zayn murmurs, his eyes so intense that it feels like he’s staring into Liam’s soul, and it makes him shudder.

“I know you, more than just what I know right now, but I just can’t _remember,_ ” he spits. He looks so frustrated, reaching up to grab his hair in his hand, his knuckles turning white. He yanks harshly, like he’s trying to rip the memories back into their rightful place, and Liam steps forward to intervene. He pulls Zayn’s hand away, stopping the older man from putting himself in more pain, and strokes his thumb over Zayn’s wrist gently.

“It’s okay,” he soothes. “I’m sure it will come back to you, and we’ll be right back to normal.” He smiles and prays that it’s more convincing on his face than it feels.

Zayn’s expression tells Liam that he’s not buying it, but he doesn’t say anything to the negative, and Liam counts that as a win, so he plows forward.

“If you want,” he begins, before cutting himself off. “the doctors said that I should try and explain things to you because it might help jump start your memory.”

Zayn nods instantly. “I’d like that a lot,” he agrees, sitting up a bit straighter. His face looks so innocent, a youthfulness that Liam didn’t even notice he’d lost returning because of the older man’s self-consciousness. “I have a lot of questions.”

“I bet,” Liam mutters. He glances around, deciding to grab the rolling stool that’s been tucked in the corner of the room so he can sit down closer to the bed.

“What do you want to know?” Liam asks when he’s settled. When he looks up, Zayn is chewing on his bottom lip nervously, and Liam does his best to appear non-threatening.

“What do all these tattoos mean?” he finally wonders, holding out his arm so Liam can get a good look.

Liam blinks once, because that wasn’t the first thing that came to mind when he thought of all the questions that Zayn must have. But then again, he’s been stuck in this room for a while with just himself, giving him time to study the ink on his skin, and it’s understandable that he wants to know how he came to have such an extensive collection.

He cups Zayn’s arm with one hand to support it, using his other hand to trace a few lines. Goosebumps break out across his skin and Liam chuckles lowly.

“To be honest, I don’t know the meaning of a lot of them. You’ve always been private about your tattoos and I never wanted to push you into an explanation.”

That makes Zayn frown, staring at where Liam’s fingers press against his skin with distaste.

“But,” Liam continues, “I do know some of them.”

He taps at the ZAP! on Zayn’s forearm. “This one was because of a phase you went through where you loved old comic books.” He rubs the microphone right behind it fondly, a small smile on his face. “And this one was because you sang in one of the tracks that I produced in college. You thought about a career in music before you decided that it was easier to express yourself with other types of art.”

Zayn looks at his own skin in fascination as Liam tries to remember if there are any others he should point out.

“You have your grandfather’s name on your chest, here,” Liam taps at the skin, “and my name over here,” he reaches across Zayn’s body to point out the floating letter on his left bicep. “The tiger’s tail is the L so it’s a little bit hidden, actually.”

“Neat,” Zayn murmurs, pulling at his skin to examine it more closely.

“I know some of them were just fillers, or you got them because you thought they looked cool, too.” Liam adds.

Zayn nods in understanding. His hair falls down into his eyes, and Liam has the urge to sweep it away like he would if they were at home, but he squashes the impulse and sits on his hand instead.

He’s feeling antsy, like he might crawl out of his own skin at any moment, and it’s confusing because it feels like he’s anticipating something that isn’t there. He stares at his own shoes and zones out until Zayn’s voice brings him back to attention.

“So how did I get here, anyways?” Zayn asks. “The nurse said I was in an accident but she didn’t give me any details.”

“You were hit in the street, trying to save a kitten, actually,” Liam tells him, and Zayn winces. “Apparently you jumped in the way of a truck and it didn’t stop in time.”

“Was it okay?” Zayn asks quickly, and Liam tips his head to the side curiously.

“I assume so?” Liam says, but his voice tips up into a question because honestly, he’s not sure. “I don’t think they crashed or anything, they just hit you and stopped. The nurse didn’t say the driver was inj-“

“No, no. The kitten,” Zayn interrupts to clarify, and Liam blushes as he realizes that _of course,_ it’s just like Zayn to be concerned about a kitten when he literally has no memories of the last seven years.

“I’m not sure,” Liam admits, “but I can check animal control?” he offers. Zayn smiles, nodding once and murmuring “that would be nice.”

Liam pulls out his phone and makes a note to look them up and call them later when Zayn is resting. Zayn inhales sharply through his nose, eyes snapping shut as he forgets about his left arm and tries to move it.

The older man tips his head back, letting it rest on his pillow, and Liam can see traces of discomfort in his expression as he adjusts his position.

“So,” Zayn mumbles, his accent a bit thicker because of the pain, but still determined to find out more about himself. “What happened after college? I assume I graduated?”

“You did, with honors,” Liam confirms, and Zayn looks proud. “You started doing freelance work at the end of your sophomore year and you had enough interest in your art to keep it up after graduating. You’re pretty sought after in the art community these days, especially by galleries.”

Zayn sighs, stars in his eyes. “Wow,” he breathes.  “That was always my dream, to be able to make whatever I felt and have people love it.”

“I know,” Liam smiles softly, a bittersweet taste on his tongue, because his Zayn is still in there somewhere, even if Liam can’t see him right now.

“So what do you do, then?” Zayn wonders. “Did you go into business like you were thinking of doing?”

And phew, Liam almost forgot about that plan. He’d majored generally in business, trying to stay practical, and picked up a few electives during his freshman year because the course load wasn’t all the extensive yet. He’d realized during his music appreciation course that he was actually very interested in music composition.

After discussing it with his advisor and his parents, Liam had changed his major during his sophomore year, and still managed to graduate in four years.

“I’m actually a music composer and producer. I also work freelance but I have ties to a few companies who contract me when they need me.”

“Wow, that’s awesome. I bet your music is amazing,” Zayn praises, and Liam instantly blushes.

Zayn has never been slow to compliment Liam, especially when it comes to his music. In fact, he’s Liam’s biggest supporter in a lot of ways, but that doesn’t stop Liam from turning pink like a school girl with a crush.

They fall into silence, and Liam watches as Zayn picks at a loose thread on his blanket.

“For you to be here,” Zayn begins slowly, and then pauses. He takes a few moments to consider his words, and when he looks up at Liam again, there’s hesitance painted across his face. “I mean,” he gulps. “We must be really close, to still be talking this long after graduating.”

“We are,” Liam agrees, and Zayn looks at him carefully, waiting for something more. “We live together, actually.”

“Oh,” Zayn breathes, and he looks oddly pleased with the information.

“We’ve lived together since our sophomore year. We moved in together in the dorms and then our junior year we found an apartment off campus.”

When Liam closes his eyes, he can still see flashes of what it looked like. It was small, barely a shoebox with two cramped bedrooms, a bathroom, and a tiny kitchen and living space. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than living in the dorms again, and at least they had the opportunity for privacy, even if they both rarely took advantage of it.

Their excuse for moving into an apartment was actually their collective fear of getting tired of each other because they were _always_ together. Zayn had brought it up one night when they were both lying in bed on their phones, suggesting that maybe if they had separate bedrooms the next year, it would prevent them from feeling smothered, and Liam had jumped on the idea eagerly.

In the end, Zayn needed a lot of room for his art supplies, though, so while they both had their own beds, most nights Zayn wound up in Liam’s rather than clean off his own bed when it was being used for some project.

Secretly, Liam misses that apartment sometimes, just because of how close it brought them. He can still remember all the nights that he woke up with his head tucked into the crook of Zayn’s neck or vice versa, and his heart clenches a bit in longing.

Zayn is looking at him curiously when Liam realizes that he’s zoned out again, and he can feel his cheeks heating up self-consciously. Liam isn’t sure why, but ever since the accident, it feels like he’s trapped inside his own head, unable to focus for more than a few minutes at a time.

He thinks that it’s probably because of how close he came to losing the biggest part of his life, and now his brain is overstimulated from the stress.

Maybe a few days in his own bed will cure him.

Liam clears his throat awkwardly, rubbing his hands on his thighs. “But, um, anyways. When we both started making more money, we looked for a bigger place. We moved into our current apartment a month before we graduated because I got a bonus from my internship that let us put down the down payment.”

“What’s it like?” Zayn asks, blinking a few times. He brings his good hand up to jab a finger into his eye, rubbing in an attempt to prevent the dregs of sleep he feels from sneaking up on him. Liam knows Zayn too well to ignore the obvious cue though, especially when the older man desperately needs rest to heal.

“It’s really open, with high ceilings and lots of windows. The kitchen is like a dream,” Liam says with a smile. “We have a great view of the city, and you love to sketch in the living room in the afternoons because the light is perfect. And there are no windows in your room so you don’t get woken up before you want to in the mornings.”

Wow, Zayn murmurs, impressed, before yawning widely, his eyes scrunching up. He smothers it with a hand, but Liam decides that it’s time for Zayn to get some more sleep.

“I think you need to rest,” Liam suggests gently, “and we can keep talking when you wake up.”

The fact that he doesn’t protest is a testament to how tired Zayn really is. He hums, blinking slowly at Liam as he stands up and pushes the stool back into the corner of the room.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Liam promises, and Zayn hums in thanks. Just before he closes his eyes to sleep, an expression crosses the older man’s face that makes Liam jolt, something so soft and loving that Liam thinks he must have imagined it.

He shakes himself, not trusting his own eyes, and after a few more moments of staring at Zayn’s sleeping form in search of answers, he turns, plopping down on the couch to wait for Zayn to wake up again.

***

It’s another week in the hospital before the doctors decide that Zayn is definitely safe to go home.

He’s able to feed and dress himself, mostly without help in spite of his cast. Showering will be a bit more difficult as the cast can’t get wet, but the occupational therapist visited one day and taught Liam how to wrap Zayn’s arm in a trash bag to protect it.

When there’s nothing else physically that the staff can do for Zayn, the doctor comes in to discuss discharge with the pair and schedule follow-up appointments in one of their regional offices.

“You’ll most likely start regaining your memories within the month, Mr. Malik,” a neurologist tells him. “It won’t be a big bang and then everything rushes back to you, either. It will be slow and you might not even notice what’s happening at first.”

“If anything seems to be the matter, please don’t hesitate to call the office.” The doctor looks at Liam, nodding his head towards the younger man. “but I’m sure you’ll be fine with Mr. Payne around. You’re in good hands.”

“I am,” Zayn agrees lowly, and when he turns to look at Liam, there’s something dark in his eyes that sends a shiver down the younger man’s spine.

If the doctor notices, he doesn’t mention it, opting to shake hands with both of them and dismissing himself. The nurse bustles in as soon as he leaves the room to start the actual discharge process, complete with a billion more instructions, and the moment is soon forgotten by Liam in favor of the more pressing issues at hand.

Zayn, on the other hand, keeps his eyes on Liam.

***

They swing by a pharmacy to pick up Zayn’s pain medication before going back home, and Zayn dozes as they drive. Despite being better, it obviously takes a lot out of him to be up and moving like this, and Liam is glad that he sleeps while he can.

Liam shakes him awake gently when he parks in the garage beneath their building, murmuring Zayn’s name softly until the older man groans and peeks his eyes open.

“We’re home,” Liam tells him, and Zayn makes a soft noise before yawning widely, which makes Liam chuckle.

Liam unlocks the door, nudging it open, and Zayn’s eyes are huge as he takes in their apartment. He’s still a little unsteady on his feet, a consequence of being bed ridden for as long as he was, but Liam is right there to help him.

“Wow,” Zayn whispers as he wanders into the living room, admiring the view. He walks straight up to the wall of windows, staring at the skyline.

“Yeah, that’s always been your favorite part of the place,” Liam tells him, adding, “and mine too.”

Zayn hums and nods to himself, looking around to explore the rest of their space.

Their couch is set up facing their entertainment center, a TV, game consoles, and shelves of movies and games, and it can also be seen from the kitchen, so they can watch a movie while cooking if they want. The living room and kitchen are separated by an archway and a breakfast bar.

“So, um,” Liam says, suddenly unsure of how to act, because they’re back home in their safe space, but Zayn isn’t back to normal. Liam can feel himself reverting back to the awkward eighteen year old who felt the need to fill all silences around Zayn just so the older man wouldn’t judge him. “I guess I’ll start on lunch, if you’re hungry?” Liam offers.

And as if on cue, Zayn’s stomach growls loudly, making Liam giggle and the older man blush.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Liam says, smiling, and he heads into the kitchen to get to work. He decides that something simple would be best, thinking for a moment before reaching in their freezer to pull out some meat for tacos.

It doesn’t take long before the apartment is filled with the smell of spicy meat, and it draws Zayn in from where he’s been exploring their movie collection with fascination. Liam realizes it makes sense, because a lot of them are newer and that means that Zayn hasn’t seen any of them.

Zayn leans over the counter, checking out the pan that’s sizzling on the stove.

“Smells good,” he compliments, before asking, “do you cook most of the time?”

Liam shrugs. “Usually we take turns cooking depending on our schedules, but I understand if you don’t want to.”

Zayn frowns, a tiny crease between his eyebrows. “I can try as long as I have a recipe, I think.”

Liam smiles proudly. “As far as other housework goes, I’m in charge of the dishes and you handle the laundry because you don’t like getting your hands wet and prune-y.”

Zayn snorts. “That sounds like me,” he agrees.

The tacos are ready a few minutes later and Liam plates them easily, pushing one across the bar and then shooing him into the little dining area to sit down and eat.

He runs water into the pan to let it soak while they eat and makes sure all of the cold ingredients are back in the refrigerator before joining Zayn at the table.

They eat in silence for a few minutes before Zayn mutters, “honestly I’m surprised that I make enough from my art to help pay for a place like this.”

Liam frowns around his bite of taco because he hates when Zayn puts himself down like that. He used to be very negative about his own abilities, and it’s only been in the past few years that he acknowledged that he does have unique talent and skill. He didn’t even think about the possibility that Zayn’s less desirable side would return with his loss of memory, but here they are.

“You make more than enough,” Liam tells him. “In fact, you could easily afford this place on your own if you wanted to.”

Zayn doesn’t comment on that, still looking slightly skeptical as he finishes chewing the bite in his mouth. After he swallows, he asks, “do we share all the bills?”

Liam nods. “We have a joint bank account that we use to pay all of our bills. We both put money into it every month so we’re both contributing equally.”

Zayn looks relieved, and Liam wonders if he thought of himself as a freeloader for some reason. He briefly entertains the idea that Zayn is just as insecure about Liam as Liam as about this Zayn.

The rest of their meal is silent. Zayn finishes eating first but stays sitting beside Liam until he’s done too. He gathers their plates and slides them into the sink as Liam follows closely behind him, carrying their glasses.

Liam runs a sink of dishwater and Zayn watches, his eyes looking tired as he blinks slowly. Normally Zayn disappears into his room after a meal to lay down for a while, but Liam realizes that he doesn’t know which room is his. It’s so weird, having his best friend in the house but interacting with him like he’s a stranger. It makes Liam’s heart hurt just a bit.

“Do you want to see your room?” Liam asks abruptly, and Zayn brightens a bit, as if he’s just remembering that he has a room at all.

Liam doesn’t wait for an answer, just shuffles forward into the other half of the apartment that this Zayn has yet to see. There’s a long hallway connecting the main area of the apartment to the bedrooms and bathroom.  Liam’s room is the first door in the hallway. The second door is a bathroom that they share, and the third is Zayn’s.

His door is closed, probably because he had been painting late into the night before his accident and he knows that paint fumes give Liam a headache. The air in Zayn’s room is a bit musty, but it’s nothing a little circulating air can’t fix.

Liam flips on the light and the ceiling fan at the same time, stepping to the side to let Zayn through

Zayn doesn’t have as much furniture as Liam does in his room, but the space is still filled, mostly with various pieces of art work or collectibles that interest him.

Zayn doesn’t remember this, obviously, so he instantly approaches the pile of paints leaning against the far wall and sits down in front of them. As far as Liam knows, it’s all art work that he has deemed as too personal to sell or show on the walls of their apartment. Liam himself hasn’t even seen a lot of them, choosing to respect Zayn’s privacy, because the older man always shows him when he feels comfortable and Liam has learned to not worry about the rest of it.

Zayn looks fascinated with the paintings themselves, sitting cross-legged and sorting through them.“Did I really paint all of these?” he wonders, and Liam hums.

“You did. You have more at your studio too. These are the ones that you don’t want to sell.” Liam explains.

Zayn doesn’t answer. Instead he pulls out one painting from the pile and sets it in his lap. He traces some of the characters on it with careful fingers, an expression on his face that Zayn can’t place, but he somehow feels like he’s intruding.

“I’ll let you get settled in,” Liam says, more to himself than Zayn, because the older man is completely focused on the painting. “Yell if you need anything.”

After he leaves, Zayn takes a long time to study each piece, thumbing over significant strokes, characters that he somehow understands even if he doesn’t remember making them.

These paintings mean something. Something fairly significant. It’s on the tip of his tongue, but when he reaches for it, his mind goes blank again.

Zayn growls, annoyed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He wishes that Liam would help him understand. He knows that the younger man is very important, a significant piece of the puzzle, but he seems to have some reservations when it comes to certain topics that Zayn is curious about.

Liam probably expects Zayn to figure them out on his own, and he wants to so badly, but it’s like there a wall there, and try as he might, he just can’t remember. He falls into a restless sleep that night, curled up in his big, cold bed.

And he dreams of large, hot hands, and pink, pouty lips, and warm, kind eyes, and a soft, soothing voice that chases away all of his fear.

***

Things fall back into a routine so easily that it’s almost too good to be true.

Of course, it’s awkward during the first week or so, as Liam remembers things that he forgot to tell Zayn, like their trash schedule, and occasionally has to gently remind Zayn where things are. They go grocery shopping one night, and Liam has to remember things that Zayn would normally grab for him, while Zayn watches with wide eyes.

At home, though, Zayn seems to adapt fairly quickly. He helps with the housework, doing several loads of laundry that had built up over the course of a couple weeks from Liam, and he makes dinner the night that Liam has to go into the studio to meet with an artist.

Studies Liam with a complex emotion on his face that he can’t place

He’s touchy too, so much so that he catches Liam off guard a few times. They’ve always been close but this is something different.

Zayn reaches for him when they pass each other in the hall, curling his fingers around Liam’s wrist and squeezing gently, sometimes mumbling a fond name as he does. He nudges fingers under Liam’s throat to scratch at his stubble when they’re sitting at the kitchen counter eating lunch. He pecks Liam on the cheek when he leans past Liam to grab a spice from the kitchen cabinet above where he’s is standing, causing the younger man to flush bright red.

At least a couple times a week, he curls up against Liam on the couch when they watch a movie and winds up almost in Liam’s lap by the end of it. Maybe it’s Liam’s imagination, but one night, Zayn seems to watch _him_ more than the movie itself, despite it being one of his favorites.

Most nights he follows Liam to bed, curling up on the left side easily and drifting to sleep quietly. He never used to do that, unless his room was overtaken by an art project, but Liam doesn’t complain. Honestly, he feels better with the older man in arms reach, as he’s been on edge since the accident. IF he wakes up in the middle of the night, it’s nice to have Zayn right next to him, unharmed and breathing softly, as a reminder that everything really is okay.

Zayn draws too, in his spare time, which is something that Zayn hasn’t done recently, or at least not that Liam has seen. Zayn has focused more on painting for almost a year, trying to master his own style, so to see him with a pen or pencil in his hand, sketchbook tucked under his arm as he heads into the living room to catch the best of the afternoon sunlight, Liam is a bit surprised.

And for days, he draws. He’s beautiful, curled up in soft hoodies and sweatpants with sweater paws, fringe falling into his face and eyelashes so long that they brush his cheeks when he blinks. Liam’s heart clenches at the sight, and he take a sneaky picture for himself one day when Zayn is particularly breathtaking.

Liam doesn’t see much of what he is actually drawing, though, because Zayn is still notoriously private with his incomplete works, but he catches glimpses of sketches, hands and lips and eyes that all look suspiciously like Liam’s own.

He tries his best not to read too much into it, but Zayn is making it kind of hard.

Both figuratively and literally.

***

He knows it’s probably not the best idea, but Zayn doesn’t tell Liam when he gradually gets his memory back.

He remembers little details about himself and Liam that help him understand exactly who he is now. He remembers that Liam doesn’t like mayonnaise anymore because in college he ate it on so much stuff that he made himself sick one night.

He remembers that he rented a work space in the same building as Liam’s studio because he always found Liam producing to be attractive, and this way, he could still go see the younger man if he wanted to during the day.

He remembers the gift that he bought for Liam’s birthday that’s tucked away in a box at the very back of his closet so Liam doesn’t find it when he gets into one of his cleaning moods.

The only thing he can’t see to remember is their sex life.

No matter how hard he tries, everything in the bedroom seems to be strangely absent from his memory. The most intimate thing he can remember is them physically sleeping in the same bed.

Something about the fact that he has his own room with his own bed gives him pause too, but Zayn chalks it up to them both needing some separate space at times. Liam’s room feels more like home than his own, anyways.

So, he just assumes that a large part of their relationship is still just missing from his memory, because come on. They have a cleaning schedule, a shared bank account, and Liam has no problem with Zayn crawling into his bed every night. He even stopped giving weak excuses like being tired or lonely, and Liam is still perfectly fine with it.

And Zayn doesn’t mean to be dramatic, but he thinks he might actually die of blue balls if Liam doesn’t get with the program soon.

He has a broken _arm_ , not a broken dick.

So, after a few weeks of frustration on Zayn’s part and confusion on Liam’s part, Zayn decides that he’s had enough. It’s time to put his master plan into effect.

***

Zayn is acting really weird today, Liam thinks.

Liam had to go into the studio this morning to meet with another artist about their upcoming album, and when he comes back, Zayn is in the kitchen already, starting on dinner.

Liam decides to change before they eat, and he winds up showering too, so by the time he comes out of his room, Zayn is putting food on the table. It’s set nicely, with real plate and their more expensive glasses, and Liam feels a strange warmth in his chest as he realizes that Zayn made his favorite meal.

After dinner, Zayn insists that Liam leave the dishes and he’ll help with them later, which makes Liam side-eye him. The older man _never_ offers to help do the dishes. He wonders if Zayn is feeling funny, or if it’s just a side effect of the amnesia.

Zayn drags him into the living room and puts in Liam’s favorite movie. He waits until Liam sits on the couch and then sits right next to him, giving him no room to scoot away, but Liam graciously doesn’t mention their lack of personal space.

After all, usually they end up pressed together during a movie, just not at the very beginning.

About fifteen minutes in, Zayn tips head onto Liam’s shoulder, sighing and snuggling closer. Liam freezes for a moment, and then forces himself to relax, trying to just enjoy the moment and not read into Zayn’s strange behavior.

He has amnesia, Liam reminds himself. This probably is just him being tired and cuddly.

And that train of thought works for a while, until Zayn turns his head far enough to let his lips graze against Liam’s neck. His breath is hot, and it makes Liam shiver.

Liam shifts then, for the first time since they’ve sat down, tip his shoulder up to try and nudge Zayn awake from his neck. The older man chases him though, surging in to kiss Liam’s neck for real, open mouthed and sloppy, and Liam twitches embarrassingly in his pants from the attention.

“Uh Zayn,” Liam whimpers, and Zayn hums, his lips still against Liam’s neck. “What are you doing?”

Zayn sighs heavily, pulling back. “I’m trying to get laid okay? I know you think I’m frail or something but honestly I am so horny because of you, and this innocent act is not helping anything.”

“What?” Liam splutters, and Zayn rolls his eyes, pouting.

“I called the hospital to ask the nurse, and she said as long as we’re careful with my arm, there’s no restrictions on sex,” he says hopefully, making Liam choke, because this sounds an awful lot like Zayn is wanting to fuck him.

Liam is half-hard despite himself, and confused, and fuck this should not be happening to him.

“What are you talking about?” Liam half yells, his voice panicky.

He’s really fighting with himself because damn, if Zayn is offering, this is wet dream come true and he is so, so tempted to pounce.

He can’t even begin to number the times that he’s jerked off because of Zayn. Zayn bending over in tight sweatpants, Zayn with his lips wrapped around a sucker, Zayn letting his hand casually fall on Liam’s inner thigh and just leaving it there until Liam is shaking with arousal and Zayn has no clue.

In his wildest dreams, he couldn’t have guessed this would ever happen. Zayn’s in front of him, asking if they can fuck and Liam would love to. He’d love to be allowed to take Zayn apart piece by piece, with his fingers and his tongue, and then put him back together, lovingly, until the older man is shaking and trembling and coming all over himself.

But he holds back, because part of him knows that it’s not right. Zayn’s got amnesia, for fucks sake, and Liam is an awful friend for wanting to take advantage of him in this state.

“What do you mean?” Zayn says bristling.

“You aren’t yourself Zayn. This isn’t right! You barely know me! You can’t even remember what I got you for your birthday last year, so you clearly aren’t in the right place mentally to make this decision.” Liam feels frantic, stumbling over his words as he tries to justify his decision, even as his body is screaming for him to fuck logic and also fuck Zayn.

Zayn looks hurt, and a bit mad, clenching his fist at his side. In a low voice, he murmurs, “you got me a Rolex with my initials engraved on it.”

Liam’s jaw drops in disbelief. “How.. how do you know that? Did someone tell you?” he demands.

Zayn snorts, shaking his head slowly. “I _remember_ Liam. I remember almost everything. I know your birthday and your _mom’s_ birthday, and the passcode to get into your studio, and how the Incredibles 2 ends, but for some reason, I can’t remember sleeping with you even though I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Well that’s probably because it never happened!” Liam exclaims, his voice high pitched and shaky because literally what the fuck is happening right now. “And what do you mean you remember?”

Zayn fixes him with a sharp look, exhaling through his nose, and Liam almost feels chastised.

“I remember planning your twenty first birthday party at the ice skating rink because you always wanted to go but never wanted to ask. I remember moving into our first apartment together and having to beg the stove to work half of the time.”

Liam’s mouth is in a perfect circle, listening in awe as Zayn lists of things he couldn’t possibly know unless it was true that his memory was back.

“I remember laying on the floor in your studio at like two in the morning when you decided that you wanted me to sing on your new song. And I remember that we stayed up for almost two days finishing it and then slept for a whole day.”

Liam’s heart clenches. Zayn opens his mouth to continue, hesitating for just a moment.

“And I remember being ridiculously jealous of the boy that kissed you at New Year’s when we were sophomores and went to Louis’ party, because I thought that I would have you all to myself after we moved in together,” Zayn’s cheeks are pink, but he doesn’t look away as he admits it. “I was so happy when you said that you weren’t really interested in him the next day, but I tried to hide it because you seemed kind of upset.”

Zayn pauses, swallowing thickly. “I really, really like you Liam. I have for years.”

“No you don’t,” Liam replies instantly, because this has to be some kind of crazy feverish dream.

“Yes I do,” Zayn insists, his face hardening as he sees that Liam really doesn’t believe him. And then he’s moving, stomping through the apartment, away from Liam.

Liam feels like he might be sick. First, he was afraid that telling Zayn the truth would push the older man away. And now, holding back the truth has done the very thing that he feared would happen all along. He almost moves to go beg Zayn to come back, to not end their friendship and pack his things just because Liam can be a bit slow and emotionally constipated, but before he does, loud footsteps echo through the apartment again.

Zayn rounds the corner, fire in his eyes as he returns, brandishing a stack of papers.

“Look! I liked you okay? I spent a lot of time making these and I hid them for some reason. And now we know why.” Zayn slaps the stack into Liam’s hands

“I don’t..” his voice trails off, the unsaid ‘understand’ hanging in the air between them.

“Liam,” Zayn says, demanding his attention. “Do you like me? The older man takes one step towards Liam, almost predatorily, and Liam feels like if he makes one wrong move, he’ll be eaten alive.

“That’s complicated,” Liam says shakily, taking a step back.

“Liam,” Zayn repeats, his voice hard and firm. “Do you _like_ me? Yes or no?” Zayn steps forward again, and Liam steps back. The older man doesn’t stop though, and Liam keeps backing up until he thumps into the wall.

All he can think is that this could ruin their friendship. What if this is it? What if Zayn realizes that Liam isn’t all that he thinks he is, and decides that he wants to leave? One accident could turn his whole life upside down and destroy him in a way that he never foresaw.

But another voice inside his head whispers what if it doesn’t?

What if this is the best thing that ever happened to him?

What if in the future, they can tell their kids and their grandkids about the accident that got them together, that made them realize they’ve been head over heels for years.

“Yes, I do,” Liam blurts before he can keep doubting himself, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Good,” Zayn murmurs, taking a step closer to Liam, so that they are toe to toe, in each other’s personal space. “So if you like me and I like you, why can’t be just be together?”

Liam is breathing heavily, worked up with flushed cheeks, and he’s completely speechless. This has to be some kind of dream. A dream come true.

“Liam,” Zayn’s voice curls around his name so softly, so lovingly, and Liam inhales shakily, staring into Zayn’s eyes. He feels vulnerable, and scared, but he _trusts_ Zayn, so when he reaches out to cup Liam’s cheek, he doesn’t flinch away.

“I’m going to kiss you now. Alright?” Zayn asks, and Liam’s eyes fall to Zayn’s lips as they move. He nods, almost imperceptibly, and then Zayn is leaning in.

Liam’s eyes snap shut and he braces himself, but as soon their lips meet, Liam melts into the kiss. Zayn sighs against his mouth, his free arm sliding around to press against the base of Liam’s spine to keep him close. Liam whimpers when Zayn lets his teeth drag against his bottom lip, his fingers scrambling to latch onto the front of the older man’s shirt.

They separate with a gasp when they run out of breath, and Zayn tangles his fingers in Liam’s hair to pull his head to one side. He ducks his head to mouth at Liam’s neck, and Liam moans softly, cupping the back of Zayn’s head to keep him close.

“Zayn,” Liam gasps and shivers as the older man bites down and then sucks at the sensitive skin of his neck, leaving a red blooming mark in his wake that no shirt will be able to cover. A mark that says, ‘this is mine, hands off’, and the thought that Zayn is possessive in that way makes Liam shiver again.

Zayn pulls back, straightening up and pressing their foreheads together. He’s searching Liam’s eyes for something, and Liam thinks that he feels more turned on from the intensity of his gaze than he did from the kiss itself.

Zayn chuckles lowly, circling his arms around and Liam laughs breathlessly, a smile fixed on his face as he stares at Zayn.

“We really weren’t together before, huh?” Zayn wonders aloud, grinning in amazement.

“Nope,” Liam replies, shaking his head. “Neither of us were dating. Each other, or anyone else.” In fact, neither of them have been in any type of relationship since they met, despite ample willing partners throughout the years.

“Good” Zayn says decisively, leaning down to kiss Liam, short and sweet. ”Then I wouldn’t have forgotten all our firsts, even if my memory loss was permanent.”

Liam hums, his fingers drawing small circles against the front of Zayn’s shirt. “You really remember?” he asks, just to be sure, and Zayn nods.

“I remember all of our firsts from before,” Zayn promises. “And now, we’ll be able to have a whole new set of firsts.”

There’s an implication there, something in Zayn’s eyes that tells Liam he’s not just talking about the kind of firsts that they’ve had before. There’s a whole new world that comes along with being in a real relationship, a commitment and an intimacy that will bring them closer together than ever.

Liam wonders if Zayn will make a list of all their firsts from now on. First kiss, first date, first fuck…

He smirks at the thought of it, and Zayn growls, leaning in to kiss the smug smile straight off of his face. Liam is breathless when they split apart, and he’s sure he looks absolutely wrecked.

“I remember meeting you seven years ago at the beginning of college and thinking you were insanely hot.” Zayn tells him, “and that hasn’t changed at all.”

Liam blushes at the praise, and Zayn takes it as a cue to continue.

“I’ve always been into you,” the older man says, sappily, and Liam’s heart explodes into rainbows and sunshine and all things love and happiness.

“Really?” Liam asks, digging for more information to feed his own selfish need for assurance, and Zayn is more than willing to comply, nodding and tipping Liam’s chin up to kiss the tip of his nose.

“I didn’t date,” Zayn reminds him, “probably because I only had eyes for you. I can’t imagine that I was ever able to look away.”

Liam is flattered, and flustered, and in disbelief. He literally can’t believe that what’s happening is real life, because it’s too good to be true. He simultaneously wants to laugh and cry, and fuck. There are tears in his eyes and he clings to Zayn like his life depends on it.

In a way, it kind of has, for the past seven years. He’s crafted himself, his home, his job, his life, around the older man, and he’s never regretted a single day of it.

“This isn’t the most romantic thing, and I promise that I will court you properly,” Zayn murmurs, “ but right now I’m dying to get you into bed.”

“Yes,” Liam gasps. “Fuck yes.” Heat flares through him as he suddenly becomes aware of his dick, that’s still semi-hard and straining in his jeans.

It’s like someone has flipped a switch in Liam as he realizes that this is real, that Zayn really wants him and they’re really doing this. Liam yanks Zayn in for a bruising kiss, and the older man squeaks at the sudden movement, and then moans into Liam’s mouth as Liam begins to respond more enthusiastically.

“Liam,” Zayn says lowly. “Let’s go to bed.”

Liam pushes before Zayn can pull him in the direction of Liam’s bedroom, exciting and arousal prickling at his fingertips in anticipation. He’s held himself back for years, and now the object of his affections is willing and ready, and Liam isn’t going to waste a single second.

They go to bed, but they don’t go to sleep that night, their soft sounds of pleasure and moans of each other’s name echo through the apartment and staining the walls.

***

Three Months Later

***

Zayn closes the door softly behind him, clicking the deadbolt into place and sliding his shoes off on the mat beside the entryway.

It’s late afternoon, the sun beginning its slow descent from the sky, and it paints the apartment in a lazy warmth that makes Zayn smile. Liam was right. Today is the best kind of day to crawl back into bed and take a nap before dinner.

His boyfriend had texted him at the studio, asking him to come home because he wanted to nap and needed his favorite pillow.

Zayn has never packed up his supplies and left his desk faster.

A lot has changed in the past three months. Their apartment feels lighter, without the weight of his and Liam’s collective unspoken feelings hanging in the air.

Zayn finally found the courage to use his own art to decorate their walls too, and so now, pieces he’s made inspired by Liam hang in almost every room. Some are subtle, like the painting with their names hidden in it that Liam hung above the TV. And some are more obvious to people that visit, like the large impressionist painting of them together, holding hands with the sun setting in front of them that’s hanging in the kitchen.

Zayn painted it the day after he confessed to Liam, and they finally, finally got together. He was awake for almost a full day, in a feverish mess of love and happiness and creativity, and by the time he finally came to bed, Liam complained about being abandoned by his boyfriend only one day into their relationship.

Naturally, Zayn didn’t let him leave the bed for two days, and when he showed Liam the painting, the younger man had actually cried, emotions bubbling up and overflowing as their new reality set it.

Another big change was their decision to call the animal shelter a couple weeks after they began dating, in search of a certain kitten that was saved by a certain unnamed man who bugged Liam until he agreed that they could have a cat.

The woman at the shelter hadn’t been sure which cat exactly was the one brought in from the accident, but she took their information and promised to call them back as soon as she had spoken with her supervisor.

Three days later, Zayn and Liam were the proud owners of a small calico kitten that Zayn promptly named Tiger because of his color, jabbing his finger at his own shoulder and smiling widely at Liam.

Tiger has grown steadily over the past two months, now caught in the awkward stage between kitten and cat physically, but mentally he begs to be babied by both of his parents.

Zayn had gotten his cast off a few week after they adopted Tiger, and he practiced using it by spoiling Tiger with all the cuddles and petting that he wanted. Now, Zayn can’t go anywhere in the apartment without tripping over him, much to poor Tiger’s annoyance.

Tiger meows loudly as Zayn heads for the kitchen, curling between his legs and rubbing up against his shins, leaving cat hair behind on his black jeans. Zayn reaches into the cabinet, tipping a helping of food into Tiger’s bowl that sits in the corner of the kitchen, and the cat mews gently before chomping down noisily.

Zayn wrinkles his nose at the noise, turning to get a glass of water. He frowns at his hands, thinking wryly that he’s going to have paint under his nails until he dies, no matter how many times he washes them.

He looks up, and notices flowers in a pretty vase on the breakfast bar. They’re blue, with small petals, and sweet smelling.

“Hey Liam, what kind of flowers are these?” he calls into the bedroom, foregoing a greeting because he knows his boyfriend heard him come in.

“Forget-me-nots!” Liam yells back, and then giggles at his own joke, and Zayn rolls his eyes. He finishes his glass of water and sets in the sink before marching back to where Liam is no doubt waiting for him in bed.

It’s time that someone taught his pesky boyfriend a lesson.

After all, amnesia is nothing to joke about.

*****


End file.
